The Center Cannot Hold
by alexandragun
Summary: Sumi-sempai goes off the deep end. How does the Romantica crowd fare?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Kanpai!" Misaki held his sake glass in the air, clinking with the silver-headed man across the table. It was a rare night out for the young man, but a welcome relief after an extensive afternoon spent working on an economics project at M University with his classmates.

_Sumi-sempai is so cool_, Misaki thought, _letting me hang out while my landlord is gone. Otherwise, I'd be pretty lonely_. A frown passed over Misaki's face. _But if Usagi-san found out, he'd be jealous. _

The man across the table chatted happily between bites of bar food about his first two years as an economics major at the university. Slowly he appraised Misaki's ever-changing facial expressions, trying hard to ignore the fact that his conversation partner was obviously off in his own little world filled with stuffed bears, rubber ducks, and one overbearing landlord slash award winning author named Akihiko Usami.

Yes, Misaki was too busy wrangling his own emotions to pay attention to Sumi-sempai. _What was Usagi-san's problem anyways? He should know I wouldn't do that with just anyone_. Although, Misaki noted, _I only do that_ _with Usagi-san because he forces me to_!

"So, how are things going with Usami-sensei?" Sumi smirked, knowing that asking about Misaki's personal life would set the young man into a frenzy of cheerful babble. Misaki blinked his green eyes and shook his head, trying to register back into his sempai's conversation.

"Usagi-san? Oh." He reached over and speared a piece of fruit with his fork, chewing slowly, feeling the crimson blush slowly creep onto his cheeks. Tucking a hand under his chin, Sumi tilted his head to the side with an expression of rapt attention.

"He's out of town with his editor reviewing a movie deal for one of his books." Misaki smiled, his eyes looking past Sumi. "I don't imagine he's enjoying the negotiations; he always tries to get out of them." Misaki rambled onward, "We haven't talked since he left! I hope he doesn't plan on bringing home another weird collection; the apartment is already crammed with his crazy obsessions. First teddy bears, then marimo when we went to Hokkaido for my birthday, and for some reason a scale model of the Great Wall too!"

"Hokkaido?"

"Y-yeah, like I said, we went there for my birthday. It was the first time Usagi-san had been on a trip that wasn't business-related. His family never did things like that together. He seemed pretty happy the whole trip but tried to do really embarrassing things to me like hold my haaa—ah, I mean, um, ah, well…" Sumi smiled indulgently.

"Yes?" With a panicked look on his face, Misaki continued to sputter, grabbing his drink. "It's so cute," Sumi started, leaning forward in his chair, "to see your continued denial with regard to that person. It's quite obvious; maybe you should stop fighting it." He winked as Misaki went bottoms up with his sake cup. Sumi reached over and filled the glass again, along with his own.

"I-I-I um don't know what you're talking about." Misaki looked into his sake cup squeamishly.

"You're caught, so just admit it. You're lovers with Akihiko Usami, your landlord." Sumi leaned in even closer to whisper, "How did you—a naïve little brat—land such a well-off guy? Tell me how you seduced him into keeping you like a pampered pet in his apartment?"

"Ah, he's my landlord, that's all, I swear! I do the dishes, wash his clothes, cook, and clean. It's an arrangement that my brother worked out with him so that I could go to M University."

"Do those services include," Sumi batted his eyelashes, "Being Usami-sensei's personal fuck toy?"

Misaki stood, knocking over his sake glass with a nervous laugh. "I just remembered something I've got to do. See you around, sempai." His eyes darted to the exit, and his feet began moving to flee the scene. Sumi grabbed Misaki's wrist and pulled him down onto his lap. Hot breath laced with alcohol circled around Misaki's ear as he struggled to stand up.

"Now Misaki, why are you running away? We're having a nice little chat. There's nothing to be afraid of." Sumi winced as Misaki's free hand raked across his exposed wrist, angry red lines forming on pale skin.

"I think you've misunderstood. Let me go; I'm leaving!" Misaki's flush of embarrassment was quickly replaced with boiling anger tempered slightly by fear. The fight or flight response had begun to kick into full effect. "I'm not kidding, sempai! Let GO!"

The hand keeping Misaki in place loosened its grip, and he slipped free. "Let's go then. I'll walk you home. You're slurring your words," Sumi said as he shrugged his coat on, threw some money down on the table and followed behind Misaki, each step measured and deliberate, a predator stalking its prey.

Misaki took a sidelong glance at his sempai. He made another mental note to decline future invitations from Sumi-sempai to go drinking. How was he going to manage to get rid of Sumi before arriving at Akihiko's apartment? An arm slid across his narrow shoulders, alarm bells rattling off in his head. Misaki shrugged the arm off.

"Sempai, stop playing around." Misaki's nervous laugher echoed in the near-dead street. Again, hot, stale-smelling breath found its way to his ear.

"You're a whore, Misaki. Tricking and tangling your way into Usami-sensei's head. You don't care about him at all, do you? It could be anyone, so long as they protect you, provide for you, care for you. Why don't you go back to your brother?" Sumi's hand snaked out more persistently this time, forcefully thrusting Misaki into the side of a building. "It's disgusting that you refuse to accept yourself for what you are. A homo-for-sale!"

"That's not true!" Misaki snarled, as he stood pinned against the wall. "Usagi-san and I don't do those things! It's none of your business."

Sumi's fist slammed into the wall next to his head, and Misaki jumped. "How can that be true, Misaki-_kun_? Are you naïve enough to think no one notices the marks on your body? Here's one above your collar," he said, touching the place. "All this time you've been under Usami-sensei's thumb, and his attentions have turned you into a lewdly sexy uke."

A clumsy fist connected with flesh. Misaki stood his ground, glare fixed on Sumi. "Stop fucking around! I told you, it's none of your business!"

Lips parted and a tongue darted out tasting blood. Sumi smirked. "That was uncalled for, Misaki-_kun_. Why don't we reach a little agreement?" His leg rubbed between Misaki's thighs. "How about you take me back to Usami-sensei's place. I'll help you pack up, then you can permanently dislodge yourself from sensei's life."

"No! I…what? What's wrong with you, sempai?" Misaki pressed his hands against Sumi's broad chest in an unsuccessful attempt to push him away.

Something snapped inside Sumi and a wild gleam flashed in his leaden eyes. Unconsciously he let loose a low growl, his fists pounding through Misaki's dumbfounded face. As he wordlessly crumpled onto the ground, Sumi's stylish brown loafers were added to the mix; the loud crunch of breaking bones barely recognized by his ears.

"Don't get up!" he snarled.

With a final kick, a slight groan came from the broken pile of flesh lying in the street; Sumi bent down and reached into his victim's pockets to remove all signs of his identity.


	2. Chapter 2

The door to Akihiko Usami's apartment swung open. "I'm home," was the hoarse salutation of the man entering the apartment.

_Welcome home_, he thought to himself as he kicked off his shoes. Surveying the living room, he flopped onto a section of the pink couch. A smirk seemed permanently glued to his face, but it did nothing to hide his trembling hands, nor thumping heartbeat. He ran a lacerated hand along the pink cushion feeling its material, imagining a warm spot where its owner may have sat, cross legged, chatting away merrily.

Sumi wanted to do more than chat.

Having grown impatient on his pink perch, he stood and walked into the kitchen. He ran his hands along the countertops, touching a coffee mug sitting upside down near the coffee pot. Sumi's hand caressed the mug, considering it carefully, as if it were precious bone china rather than cheap earthenware. He put it back gently in its place and walked past the dining area and he stepped down into the entertainment area. It was complete with a flat-screen television and couch. Sumi sighed, thinking the apartment was unnecessarily spacious.

The lower level of the penthouse was surprisingly bland. Nothing out of place, nothing out of the ordinary. He wanted to be closer. Wandering to the staircase, Sumi stripped off his coat and shirt. He trailed one hand down his chest, tweaking a nipple, and placed his other bloodied knuckle hand on the stair railing. The railing the object of his one-sided love touched everyday. It was all Sumi could do to keep from leaning over and licking that railing. Instead, he caressed it as a lover's body while he ascended the stairs.

Door one: Akihiko's study. Sumi breathed deep, the smell of stale cigarettes in the air. Gingerly he sat on the computer chair next to the desk, imagining the award-winning author toiling away. He set his head upon the desk and tried in vain to slow his rapidly beating heart. A bloody hand rested on his crotch, applying firm pressure. He wanted to make this newfound feeling last as long as possible. Sumi's fingers glossed over the numerous titles on Akihiko's bookshelf and shivered in delight. Close, much closer.

Door two: a bed, a collection of bears, a train track. Sumi considered for a moment, crotch swelling painfully, and decided to leave this room for last.

Door three: another bedroom. Walking in, Sumi glanced at the picture in a frame on the study desk. Misaki and his brother. With a sneer, he knocked it to the ground. "Fucking brat," cursed Sumi. _What right at all did Misaki have to live here? To monopolize his love?_ He'd never stood a chance; Misaki had infected Usami-sensei long before he had met his idol.

Jealousy boiled within his belly. Before he knew it, he found himself trashing the room. A computer tower lay in pieces at his feet, a pillow torn to shreds, pictures and posters ripped from the wall. Had the study desk not been bolted to the wall, Sumi likely would have overturned it. Instead, he settled for throwing the computer chair against the wall, breaking a leg off in the process. Rage sated for the time being, Sumi exited the room and went to search through doors number four and five.

Door four: the room was simply filled with teddy bears to the point that Sumi could barely set foot inside. Every inch of wall and floor space was covered with every imaginable size and color of bear. He reached out and touched the nearest, a crème colored bear dressed in a fairy costume. He flipped it over to look at its tag; an import from Vermont. Delicately, Sumi took the bear by the hand and hazarded a question, "Shall we proceed?"

Door five: As Misaki had described, the last room was filled with a half put-together Great Wall of China model and marimo. Sumi wondered at the sight of the marimo, their green, velvety circular bodies floating within the jars in the bookcase; he stood there, imagining Usami-sensei putting together the pieces of the Great Wall model. The whole apartment reeked of him. Sumi grimaced. No, not just Usami-sensei, but Misaki as well. The two of them together. Shrugging away the thought, he walked back towards room number two, Akihiko Usami's bedroom.

The closest he had ever been to the man he held dearest, the object of his obsession.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Sumi had never meant to intertwine the red strings of his fate with Akihiko Usami. He would have been perfectly happy to have been raised by his mother and father, remaining perfectly ignorant of the man. Unfortunately, there was no possibility of this being so. Sumi's father, an author, suffered from thick envy of the man, the great lord who had won so many literary awards. Usami-sensei's presence always lurked within Sumi's residence, permeating his mind, slowly driving the whole family within an inch of their sanity. Inescapable even as he lived on his own as a college student.

M University had provided respite from the growing obsession, allowing him to focus on the intricacies of economic studies. Three years in, though, one Misaki Takahashi had arrived late to the welcoming ceremony, trailing behind none other than his great lord, Usami-sensei. A relative of the great Usami clan going to a normal state school? Not likely, Sumi had thought. He remembered the way his heart was sent into palpitations, sitting just a few yards away from the man, clenching cold and clammy hands together in an effort to stop himself from throwing himself into Usami's arms.

Misaki Takahashi. Just who the hell was he, that Usami-sensei would spend his time carting Misaki around in his red sports car? Slowly, bit by bit, Sumi began worming his way into Misaki's life; gaining the young man's trust. It was easier than he had hoped, as the Usami name had attached a stigma to Misaki, making him a social outcast grateful for any interaction with students.

In Sumi's life, he had never imagined despising anyone as much as he did Misaki. The name alone was enough to inspire angry writhing, his soul clenched, murderous intent gleaming in his eyes. He had been surprised by how, without difficulty, the feeling was tempered when Misaki began to talk about Usami-sensei. The only person (other than his brother) that brat talked about. Obviously, Usami and Misaki were together; all the tell-tale signs were there. Misaki always came to school tired, welts visible on his neck, skin smooth and radiant. And in complete denial of being a flaming homosexual.

Sumi eased into Usami's room, shedding his pants as he did so. He inhaled a deep breath of musk and cigarette smoke. Walking carefully across the room, he rested a trembling hand on the bed. Usami-sensei's bed. A tingling sensation passed through his toes and lingered within his heart, the feeling almost more than Sumi could handle. He crawled between the sheets of the bed, and drank in the scent of soap and his beloved. The peaceful moment would not last. As much as Sumi worshiped Usami-sensei for the mind behind his enthralling works of literature, there was a much darker desire within. Lust.

Closing his eyes, so blissfully close, without being aware of it, he murmured, "Sensei." Sumi grasped himself, cupping his balls, violently pumping his cock, imagining Usami doing this to him. Sumi turned on his side as he pinched his fetus pink nipples.

"Sensei!"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Misaki Takahashi felt as if a demolition concerto had gone off in his head. Syncopated rhythms bounced between his eardrums, making his head a makeshift timpani. Consciousness was coming, slowly. He fought to raise his eyelids, wiggle his fingers, a toe, anything. The conductor swiftly brought the concerto to fortissimo, and he began to choke. Something was in his mouth, down his throat, that prevented him from breathing or swallowing of his own free will. Misaki's eyes flashed open, the explosion of light only intensifying the relentless pounding in his head. Abruptly he fought to sit up, fought the hands holding him down, fought the tube lodged in his throat, unaware of his surroundings.

"Misaki. Misaki!" the voice filtered into his ear, unwelcome, grating. Bleary-eyed, he tried to focus on something, anything. A dismembered pain loomed threateningly on the edges of his consciousness. He dry heaved: a taste of bile, then something more metallic.

"Mr. Takahashi, please step back so we can make the patient more comfortable. Please, sir, or else you'll have to wait outside." The nurse brandished a long syringe, determination visible on her face. Takahiro reluctantly stepped aside.

Pumping the medicine into the IV, the nurse said, "This is a mild sedative. It should knock Misaki out for a little longer. Like the doctor explained, it's necessary for the swelling in his face and limbs to decrease, and for his vital signs to become stronger before he can have surgery. Your brother will be less traumatized if he regains consciousness only after the operation."

In this way, hours, days ticked by with Takahiro at Misaki's side. Regularly Minami came to relieve him, so that he could eat, take a shower, or sleep somewhere other than the cot next to Misaki's bed. Takahiro had tried to call Akihiko Usami multiple times at his home, on his cell phone, through his publisher and editor. No one seemed to know where the man was. Takahiro clenched his fist in frustration. The situation was worrisome itself, but without his best friend there to support him, Takahiro felt he was hanging on by a thread. Minami was lending all the support she could to her husband, but Takahiro had to keep a brave mask in place for her.

It was all Takahiro could do to stop from tearing his hair out. His younger brother lay immobile in the hospital bed, battered and broken. Takahiro had little clue as to why. The police had suggested a hate crime, possibly someone Misaki knew._ Misaki is such a good kid, how could this have happened?_ He would have felt more confident had Akihiko been there. Akihiko was his pillar, the person he went to when he needed to find answers or advice. When Takahiro's parents had died, it was Akihiko who had helped him find the courage to raise Misaki on his own. He was deeply indebted, but he now found himself cursing the man. Just where was he at a time like this?

Within the week, Takahiro's brother would undergo extensive reconstructive surgery on his face. The plastic surgeon had warned him that the post-surgery Misaki was unlikely to resemble his former self. Too much damage had been done to Misaki's facial structure: both cheekbones shattered, one crushed eye socket, and a collapsed septum. Takahiro's chest tightened at the thought of being unable to recognize his brother. Misaki, who had their mother's dimples when he smiled. Takahiro wondered, should this prized feature disappear, how much else would be lost during this unexpected turn of events.

So Takahiro waited. He could only pray this retribution exacted upon Misaki had been paid in full, leaving him with a karmic blank check.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

It was the fifth time in the last two hours that Sumi had jerked himself to orgasm between the sheets of Usami-sensei's bed. But he was nearly raw, and his erection showed no signs of flagging. Not that it particularly bothered him. For Usami-sensei, he'd stand at attention seven days a week, twenty four hours a day. Sumi rolled out of the bed, cock bouncing just below his navel, and made his way into the bathroom. The gaunt reflection in the mirror challenged his stare.

Sumi couldn't help but smirk, _handsome bastard. Fantastic, well hung bastard._ A chrome shaving kit hung next to the sink. He grasped the brush by its handle and ran it across his broad chest, over his dusky pink nipples, and in a line down his taunt stomach. Unscrewing the shaving cream jar, he lavishly coated the brush, then lathered his face. Sumi breathed in deeply. Every smell and texture in the penthouse was an aphrodisiac as far as he was concerned.

Applying the razor to the stubble on his skin, he shaved off a five o'clock shadow. Wiping off the residual shaving cream, Sumi then applied aftershave lotion, enjoying the slight stinging sensation. He poured more of the lotion onto his hand and coated his cock. His eyes rolled back as the first wave of pain hit. Fisting the erection, he imagined himself penetrating deep inside Usami-sensei's ass. Again and again his hips thrust into his clenched hand, leaning heavily on the sink counter. The discomfort caused by the lotion began to dissipate into a wave of volatile pleasure. The heat of the lotion radiated around his shaft, knees knocking together. Faster, harder, Sumi's breath coming in gasps now. He reached up to twist his nipple roughly, imagining his teeth sinking into Usami's flesh, tasting blood, his own from the cut on his lip given when Misaki's fist had connected with his face. Growling, he drove deeper into his fist, fully possessing the fictitious Usami-sensei.

"Mine," He rasped, shuddering to climax.

Erection tapering, he turned on the bath and let out a hissing noise as he diverted scalding water to the showerhead, washing away the shaving lotion and semen.

Finally able to attend to other matters, he dressed himself in Usami-sensei's signature dress shirt, pants, belt, yellow tie, and vest. He set upon the task of eradicating all traces of Misaki from the penthouse.

Walking into Misaki's bedroom, Sumi immediately regretted the mess he had made, if only for the additional hassle of cleaning broken glass off the floor. He deposited the posters, photographs, books, and school effects into a garbage bag and began throwing clothing into a suitcase he found beneath the bed. Once the case was as full as possible, Sumi sat on it and with great difficulty and zipped it shut. He swung it out the bedroom door and over the railing, onto the pink couch below. Stifling the urge to torch the room for cleansing, he thought, _No good, the whole place would end up burning down_. Dragging the overfilled garbage bag down the stairs, he settled for rummaging around the fridge and freezer, throwing away prepared foods. If anyone was going to play house from now on, it would be Sumi with Usami-sensei as his wife.

Amid a great rattle and hum, Sumi took the maintenance elevator to the ground floor, dragging behind him Misaki's deadweight to the apartment complex incinerator. He snickered to himself as the final barrier to Usami-sensei burned to a crisp. Out of sight, out of mind. And Sumi intended to keep it that way. He just had to find some plausible reason for Misaki's departure and keep Usami-sensei from asking too many questions.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Takahiro woke to the persistent beep of the patient-controlled analgesia pump. A nurse hovered over the machine, fiddling with the lock on the case that held Misaki's drug of choice. She discarded the empty syringe and inserted a new one. Locking the compartment again, she pressed a few buttons, and the pump fell silent.

The operation had taken place two days ago, nearly a week after Misaki was admitted to the hospital. Misaki had been awake briefly a few times when Takahiro had been close by but had been in no condition to speak. The police made regular visits, and the nurses fended them off with ferocious looks and clipboards.

Takahiro rubbed his eyes. If he allowed himself to cry, he wouldn't stop easily, and this might be a very long haul. He had to preserve his calm, a calm that was taking every fiber of his being to school on his face, to stop his hands and voice from shaking. Where was Akihiko? It didn't make sense to Takahiro. Why now, at such a crucial time, had he gone missing?

Akihiko was only supposed to be out of the country on business for a week. Takahiro had spoken with Aikawa-san, his editor, and had thought he'd detected worry in her voice when they spoke two days ago. Rising with determination, he called Minami and proceeded towards the penthouse.

The door rattled violently. Takahiro had forgotten the passcode to Akihiko's apartment. He had begun by mildly tapping, but when there was no response, the tapping gave way to a slamming fist and finally a foot connecting with such force that it left a dent. Collecting himself one last time, he probed the corners of his mind for the sequence of numbers that would grant him entry. Akihiko's birthday? No. Misaki's birthday? No. Year and month of his first book publication? No, again. Takahiro could recall the passcode was something along those lines. A birthday, or some other important date just beyond the tip of Takahiro's tongue. Something easy for Akihiko, Takahiro, and Misaki to recall. Now, if only he could remember it!

He was about to key in his own birthdate when the door to the penthouse swung open. Akih—no, a stranger stood in the doorway wearing Akihiko's clothing, same hair, same stature and attitude, but still decidedly not Akihiko. Takahiro's jaw dropped to his chest.

"You must be Misaki's brother, Takahiro. Please, come in. I'm Sumi Keichii, Misaki's sempai in the Economics department." The impostor retreated inside the door, opening it wider for Takahiro to pass.

"Where's Akihiko?" was the grating reply of Takahiro. At the moment he didn't care who the charlatan was. All he knew was that he definitely didn't like the way the man was eyeballing him, nor the smirk planted on his face. It rattled him and extinguished the last fragments of patience Takahiro possessed.

"Usami-sensei is upstairs, and a little out of sorts since he's returned from his business trip. Can I offer you tea?"

"No, that's all right. I'll just go on up to see him. Bedroom or office?" He glanced up the flight of steps anxiously.

Sumi cocked his head. "I wouldn't do that…" The voice trailed off as Takahiro climbed the stairs two at a time and watched him check one room, then the other. A faint gasp filtered down from upstairs. Sumi parted his lips in mirth, imagining the eyeful the house guest had received. His Usami-sensei, tied to the bed, naked, marked and thoroughly manhandled. His cock throbbed in remembrance of their most recent tryst. Following his pulsing member, he ascended the stairs.

"Usagi-san!" Takahiro balked as his eyes raked over Akihiko's curled form. His childhood friend lay on the bed, shuddering uncontrollably, eyes feral. Takahiro rushed to Akihiko's side and began untying the restraints that held his arms and legs. He covered him with the sheet and held him for a minute before he remembered the monster downstairs.

Just then, he heard footsteps approaching. He released Akihiko, murmuring, "It's all right now." On his way out the door of the bedroom, he looked around for the heaviest object he could find, and his eyes lit on the long metal vacuum attachment. A fleeting image of his brother, Misaki, passed through his consciousness. He took the attachment in his hands and hurried forward to meet the devil.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Takahiro gritted his teeth and reflexively closed his eyes as he swung. The vacuum attachment clanged against the metal of the second-story railing as it connected. The sound of Sumi's laughter was ringing in his ears.

"Now, now, Takahiro. Just as I'd expect, you're pretty incompetent at assault." Sumi strode across the last stair and towards Takahiro, gripping the attachment, almost yanking it from Takahiro's hands. A smirk tugged at his lips as Takahiro struggled to maintain the upper hand. "Isn't Usami-sensei…delicious? I don't understand why you're so upset. He practically begged me for it."

Sumi leaned forward and licked the side of Takahiro's face. "You should thank me. What I've done to Usami-sensei is no more and no less than what he has done to your own brother." A disgusted look washed over Takahiro's face as Sumi continued, "Yes, that's right, you didn't know about that, did you? Your brother and best friend have become lovers behind your back."

"N-n-no!" Takahiro howled, kicking out with his leg. Sumi lost his balance as the blow connected, landing heavily on his backside. "That's just not possible. Misaki—he's a normal boy!"

"You can't tell me you've never noticed how that fool lights up when he's in the same room as Usami-sensei. Even just talking about him. Makes me fucking sick." Sumi let loose a throaty groan of frustration as he was pinned to the ground beneath Takahiro. "You're wasting your time trying to protect Usami-sensei. Instead, you should be thanking me for putting an end to your brother's perversion!"

Takahiro watched his assailant struggle for breath as he held the bar against Sumi's throat. The man's face began to change colors. _This has to be a joke, right? _ Takahiro ransacked his memory and frantically tried to put two and two together. Sumi had raped Akihiko and said that Akihiko had done the same. Akihiko had raped Misaki? No. He didn't think it possible. And yet, somehow the two were together. Was it his fault that Misaki had ever been introduced to Akihiko, his fault that Misaki attended M University and met Sumi? If only he hadn't moved to Osaka and left Misaki to fend for himself!

And what about Akihiko? Was it because he had feigned ignorance of Akihiko's feelings that the man had preyed upon Misaki? Had Misaki's need to cater to others kept him from telling that he was in trouble? Why had they both felt it necessary to hide the truth from him if the relationship was consensual? The thought of the two closest men in his life together, playing house, husband and wife… No. Takahiro did not want to think about that just yet. And somehow, he was here, swimming in uncharted waters, as his best friend's rescuer, a role he thought he'd never have the strength to perform. Rage towards the man who had knocked his comfortable life on its side, barely contained, began to boil over.

In Sumi's hypoxic state, his grip loosened on the attachment as Takahiro's weight tried to crush his throat. With the opposing force gone, Takahiro grated the bar into Sumi's trachea, and watched as a thin stream of blood began to leak from his mouth. Feeling adrenaline surge through his veins, Takahiro brandished the weapon above his head. All he wanted to do was wipe the self-satisfied look off the man's face. To obliterate it. Lies, empty words, painful visions, all of it. Takahiro brought his trembling arms down.

The sound of the metal rod, as it crushed Sumi's skull, was enough to make Takahiro lean over and puke his guts out.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Cafeteria food from the hospital Takahiro had been dining in for the last week made an appearance on Akihiko's upstairs hallway. Mouthful after mouthful of half-digested rice and curry splattered onto the prostrate form between his legs, and slowly accumulated upon the hardwood floor.

Appalled at his own weak constitution, he struggled to maintain the animal bloodlust that had driven him to take another man's life. The good, gracious man Takahiro had assumed himself to be was nowhere in sight. Thrusting his body into submission, he again struck out at Sumi. After some time, Takahiro's strength waned, fury dissipated, and he began to feel the dampness of blood on his face, soaking his shirt.

"Taka…Takahiro!"

He looked up, glassy eyes flashing, and saw the questioning face of the man who had once been his closest friend. His hands were still wrapped tightly around the metal bar as he stood up and away from his opponent. Takahiro shook his head, as if to empty it of all thought, focusing his eyes upon Akihiko. The man was still shaking uncontrollably, but had managed to put some slacks on. His upper torso was covered in angry red lines and welts, shoulders hunched, eyes dull and glued to the metal rod dripping hair and blood and scalp.

Takahiro's eyes trailed from Akihiko, to the weapon, to Sumi. He nudged Sumi with his foot and was rewarded with nothing more than ragged gasps for air. The man was struggling for every breath he could steal from the thick air of Akihiko's penthouse. He was obviously unconscious, and quite possibly at death's door. Another wave of nausea washed over Takahiro as he realized he felt little, if any, remorse for what he had done. Stepping over the body, Takahiro made his way towards Akihiko and saw a subtle shift in his friend's eyes. Fear?

"Ah… Usagi, let's get you into the bathroom so I can take a look at your wounds. Don't worry, we'll deal with this mess later." Takahiro stood and moved towards Akihiko, reaching out to take him by the arm and away from the carnage in the hallway. Akihiko backpedaled into the wall.

"Takahiro… I…" He looked into the face of Akihiko and saw the barely controlled panic behind his eyes. Grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze, Takahiro smiled grimly, pushing him in the direction of the bathroom.

"There's nothing to worry about now, so please, just let me take care of you." Takahiro turned his back to Akihiko and began rummaging around in the vanity drawers for antiseptic cream and bandages. Having found them, Takahiro began cleaning and bandaging the torn skin around Akihiko's wrists.

"How long has that monster been here, Usagi?"

"I don't even know how it happened, Takahiro. I got back from my trip, and I was so excited to come home and see Misaki… His bastard sempai tried to convince me Misaki had moved back home with you, and didn't want any contact from me, but I couldn't believe it. One thing led to another…" Akihiko's voice quavered as he struggled to keep his emotions at bay. "Takahiro, don't tell Misaki."

Takahiro paused, antiseptic covered q-tip poised in the air, "I won't." He looked towards the ground. "Usagi, what did Sumi mean by saying he only did to you what you did to Misaki? Sumi raped you, didn't he?"

"That's not it at all! I never did anything to Misaki that he didn't want me to! If you hadn't come when you did, I don't know how much further he would have gone." Akihiko shuddered, feeling Sumi's nails still upon his skin, saliva trails barely dried. Sumi between his legs, mercilessly thrusting into his raw ass. Akihiko blinked the thought away, focusing instead on the one person who could erase the torment he had gone through. In the pit of his stomach, he already knew the answer to the question he was about to ask, Sumi had told him many times already since the charade had been revealed. "Takahiro… where is Misaki?"

"You know, Usagi, you're lucky to have escaped with so little damage. Misaki was not nearly as lucky in Sumi's hands." Takahiro's voice dipped lower, shaded with outrage. "He's been in the hospital for over a week now, broken face, broken ribs, covered in bruises. His doctors put him into a coma-like state so that his injuries have a chance to heal."

Akihiko's hand balled into a fist. "I'm so sorry, Takahiro. I should have been there for you. For you both."


End file.
